


Change of plans

by atir8891



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Ian Gallagher, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Post Season 10, mention of canon cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23205232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atir8891/pseuds/atir8891
Summary: The boys get into a big fight after Ian does something he shouldn't and Mickey says something he instantly regrets. It's clear that they need to work on some things unless they want the past to keep haunting them.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 26
Kudos: 291





	Change of plans

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyy so here's some angst that nobody asked for. I couldn't get this idea out of my head and so I had to write it oops
> 
> for the people who are reading 'The stranger in my brother's bed': I have the next chapter written, gonna edit it and have it up in the next few days, don't worry :)

As Mickey steps foot in the bar he's supposed to meet Ian in tonight, he immediately starts scanning the room for a sign of his husband. It’s been a long day at work, and Mickey can’t fucking wait to just have a few drinks with Ian and relax for a while before heading home together, happy and pleasantly drunk. They’ve been doing this sort of thing more and more, lately. It’s kind of like date night, but their own special version of date night, which consist of knocking back beers and hard liquor at a not too hipstery, gay-friendly bar like the one he finds himself in right now.

After a handful of seconds that feel like hours, eager as he is to spend the evening with his husband and not have to interact with anyone else, he finally manages to spot him. Only when he does, bile rushes up his throat and his whole world seems to crash down on him in an instant.

Ian is sitting on a stool at the bar while some douchebag is all over him like a rash, mouth close to Ian's ear like he's whispering something to him and left hand slowly creeping on Ian’s thigh. The rational part of Mickey’s brain is trying to tell him that Ian looks really uncomfortable and has his palms on the asshole's chest like he's tentatively pushing the guy away from him. But all Mickey can really see at the moment is a soon-to-be-dead fucker slobbering all over his husband and said husband indulging the moron far longer than he fucking should. The disgusting scene he’s witnessing is making his blood boil and his vision turn blurry.

Before he knows it, because he can’t stomach any more of this sickening display, Mickey’s stomping towards them in a rage-induced frenzy that should make any sensible person around instantly freeze in terror and stay the fuck out of his way, unless they want to be met with hell and fury. Fortunately the place isn’t packed, otherwise Mickey would end up inflicting some serious damage to some really unlucky patrons in his march to the bar.

“What _the fuck_ is going on here?” Mickey shouts at a high volume when he gets to them, mostly because of how angry he is but also to make sure he’s heard clearly above the loud chatter and music.

Ian goes all wide-eyed and shocked as soon as he hears Mickey’s voice and lays eyes on him. He tries to shove the guy off himself a little more energetically, but still ultimately fails to get rid of him. The drunken jackass, for his part, seems to take an annoyingly long amount of time to even register a new presence beside them, as he starts to pull his face away from Ian’s neck in exasperating slow motion.

“Who the fuck are you?” He slurs his words like his brain is making an extraordinary effort just to produce that simple sentence and make it come out past his lips. Mickey’s murdering rage is only exponentially increasing the longer he's exposed to this utter moron.

“Who the fuck am I?! I'm his fucking HUSBAND, that’s who I am, you little bitch!” With that he's pulling the prick off of Ian completely, making him fall from his bar stool and causing him to end up laying on his side on the sticky floor of the bar. The dude at least has the decency to pass right the fuck out he’s so drunk, taking him off the equation completely as Ian and Mickey are left there to deal with the aftermath.

Mickey is panting harshly, more out of his still-present boiling anger than out of physical exertion. He glances at Ian, who’s now even more wide-eyed and shell-shocked than before. When he meets Mickey’s eyes, his expression quickly turns into something apologetic. He doesn’t look guilty exactly, more like he's worried that he's now going to have to explain himself and do a really fucking good job of it too. Mickey thinks he's definitely not fucking wrong about that, but he also suddenly realizes he can’t really bear to look at Ian’s face anymore right now. He’s too pissed off, and hurt, and god knows whatever else he’s feeling, but it’s nothing good. So after shooting him one more vicious look filled with irritation and disappointment, he turns to leave the place as quickly as he can.

He’s stomping furiously out of the bar, making his way outside in a hurry, but he can hear Ian scramble to follow him almost immediately. To be honest he's expecting that of him, although the last thing he wants right now is to hear his husband’s excuses. He's pretty sure he won’t be able to handle this constricting pain in his chest if he's forced to look into Ian’s sad eyes and listen to the sweet sound of his voice. Tears start to form in Mickey’s eyes, and in that moment he finds himself cursing his own body for betraying him. He wants to hold on to the fury and anger, not give in to sadness and hurt, goddamn it. He's just not ready for that.

Eventually Ian catches up with him, grabbing his right arm and making him turn, Mickey instantly shaking off his grip roughly and desperately. Mickey stops then, standing half in front of his husband but refusing to meet his eyes. He’s not going to give him any opening, the fucker's going to have to work for this. There’s no way he's ready to calm down yet.

Ian's panting heavily, a desperate look in his eyes as he tries to catch Mickey’s to make him look at him. “Mick,” he breathes, searching for words, all of them seeming wrong and having the potential to add even more harm and pain to the situation. Truth is, he has no idea how to explain what happened without hurting Mickey further and digging his own grave deeper. After a few seconds, he sighs harshly and goes for it. “Mick, you know that was nothing, right? Just some drunk asshole hanging all over me… I- I couldn’t just shake him off, you know? I was just trying to turn him down gently.”

Ian tries a small reconciling smile but Mickey just wants to punch it off his face as soon as he sees it. “Turn him down _gently_? The fuck you tryna be gentle for, Ian?! You really think that was gonna fucking work with a dude as hammered as he was? Are you seriously that fucking _dumb_?!” Mickey shouts his rapid series of questions with a hard and disbelieving look on his face, now looking straight into Ian's eyes as if he wants to burn him with his glare.

Ian is caught off guard by the line of questioning, his mind suddenly blank as to why he thought that was a good idea. He’d been confused, that kind of thing hadn’t happened to him in a while and he just didn’t think it would be wise to start a bar fight or some shit like that. He’d stupidly – he realizes that now – thought a gentler approach would be best given the situation. “W-Well I don’t fucking know, Mick! It might’ve worked, you don’t know that!” When Mickey loudly snorts, he adds, spreading his hands in a placating gesture, “I- I was just tryna be nice, okay?”

Mickey’s eyebrows take a trip all the way up his forehead, just before he bellows, “ _Nice_? You were tryna be nice?! Oh, why didn’t you just fucking say so? Were you just gonna end up sucking the guy’s dick too while you were at it, since you were so preoccupied with being so goddamn nice to him?” He lets out an unamused laugh as his anger continues to bubble up inside him. “For fuck's sake, Ian. D’you even fucking hear yourself? Unfuckingbelievable.” Mickey mutters the last part under his breath, gritting his teeth and looking away from his husband. He starts patting himself down, searching for his smokes, in an attempt to cool his fury at least a little and keep the tears safely in his eyes.

Ian, in the meantime, looks thoroughly distraught and perplexed as to how he can possibly explain to his husband the chain of thoughts that had led to the events Mickey witnessed. He needs to make it clear to him that he’d never betray him like that, although he hopes Mickey knows this and is just currently spouting off these absurd ideas in the midst of his rage. “N-No, of course not, nothing like that was ever gonna happen! I'd never do that to you, Mick!”, he yells desperately, his eyes wet and his voice shaky.

At that, Mickey lets out a sad little chuckle, and in the coldest tone of voice he can muster he blurts out, unable to stop himself, “Well, it’s not like you’ve never cheated on me before, is it?”

Something shifts as soon as the words leave his lips. The air feels chillier, Mickey’s breath hitches and his heart skips several beats as he instantly regrets opening his mouth. He just stands there, feeling paralyzed, contemplating the gravity of the words he’s just said. He doesn’t dare look at Ian at first but pretty soon it all becomes too much for him to bear. He's not prepared for the dance of emotions he watches happening on his husband’s face. Hurt, regret, guilt, then a flash of anger and then hurt again. It's heartbreaking, and Mickey just wants to make it all stop immediately, as he witnesses the tears rapidly flowing down Ian’s cheeks.

“You, uh, you got a point there, Mick. You're right, I've done that to you before, why wouldn’t I do it again? You’ve got no reason to trust me.” He’s wiping furiously at his eyes now, starting to take a few small steps backwards like he needs to get away from Mickey right now. It all feels a little too much. The yelling, the resentment, the shame, the mention of a past he tries so hard to keep buried in the deep recesses of his mind.

Mickey feels like an asshole. He needs to say something before Ian can get too far. This isn’t how he meant to end this fight. Hell, this isn’t how he saw this night going in the first place, but that's all shot to shit now anyway. His mind is scrambling to understand how they even got to this point, considering how happy and in love they’d been just this morning. But it’s no use thinking like that now. He just needs to fix this.

Mickey feels his tongue heavy in his mouth, but manages to breathe out a weak, “Ian…” as he tries to reach his hand forward to keep him there, to comfort him, to say sorry for hurting him.

Ian shakes his head, continuing to take even more steps backwards, more purposefully now. He's looking at the ground, not meeting Mickey’s eyes. “No, I, uh… I need to be alone for a little while. I'll just see you later.” Then he briefly makes eye contact with Mickey, just as he's turning around to leave and whispers, so low Mickey has to strain to hear it, “I'm sorry, Mick.”

Mickey watches him go, his feet struggling to stay planted on the pavement, his heart and his mind battling over the decision to follow after him or respect his need to be alone for a while instead. He doesn’t know if he'd be steady enough on his feet to chase after Ian anyway. He also doesn’t know if he'd be able to say the words he needs to say, busy as he is choking on his own sobs, finally allowing his tears to spill freely just as his husband turns the corner and completely disappears from sight.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Mickey’s back at the Gallagher house a couple of hours later. He's not sure how he even managed to get back, his vision so blurry he could barely see straight and his legs feeling like jelly as if they didn’t have it in them to force his body to stay upright.

But he’s here now, exhausted, mad with worry and self-pity. Jesus, he wants to get black-out drunk. But he can’t, he's hoping Ian’s going to come home any minute and he needs his head to stay sharp so they can talk this whole thing out.

Because that is what adults in mature relationships do. He thinks that’s the whole point of this, the fact that they’re still clinging to behaviors and coping mechanisms they used to adopt when they were just stupid kids who didn't know any better. Things really need to change if they want to avoid getting into upsetting fights like this one. They’re fucking _married_ , goddamn it. They _need_ to get better at this.

He thinks about the fight. God, he can hardly think of anything else, mind going over every single detail over and over again. He's pretty sure he had a point in criticizing Ian’s behavior and getting angry about it. Maybe he should have gone about things a different way though. Instead of exploding in a fit of anger, he could’ve let the hurt slip through the cracks and talked to Ian about how much seeing him like that with that guy had hurt him. There’s nothing wrong with showing your partner you’re hurting, he reminds himself. It’s not a sign of weakness. Yeah, he should really fucking remember that.

But he definitely has a right to be angry. Ian fucked up tonight too, he can’t let guys get all over him like that just because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s precious feelings. His husband’s way too nice for his own good. He does love that about him, even thinks it's cute when he proves to be way too naive about certain things. It reminds him of the freckly, scrawny kid Ian used to be. Still, he can’t just let people take advantage of him like that. It’s going to get him into all kinds of trouble, and Mickey won’t have that.

But Mickey, well… he fucked up _big time_. He knows that. Something ugly inside him convinced him to remind Ian of his past indiscretions. Of the times he cheated on Mickey while he was manic, before being diagnosed. Mickey is aware of how much of a shitty move that was, especially in the middle of an argument. Especially given the fact they haven’t really ever talked about that stuff in quiet, calm moments between them. He thinks now they should probably do that. Even go to fucking couples therapy or some shit. The idea scares Mickey to no end, but not nearly as much as losing Ian or hurting him does.

Yeah, the main thing is, they are going to talk about this like adults once Ian gets home. But _when_ will Ian get home? Mickey’s mind starts to spin again, supplying countless, worrying scenarios about what Ian might be doing right now, his state of mind and his level of resentment towards Mickey. He hopes like hell it's not as bad as he imagines, tries to convince himself that Ian’s just taking a walk to clear his head and he'll be home any second now. But the doubts and the anxieties niggle at his mind, not letting it rest even for one moment.

He goes back and forth between blaming himself, blaming Ian and cursing the both of them for being unbelievably dumb and so _monumentally_ bad at this relationship shit. They’d gone through so much and yet sometimes it felt like they failed to really learn anything useful about being a couple, about acknowledging their feelings and thus managing to not hurt each other this bad at every turn. But Mickey knows they can do better. He just needs to see Ian right now. He needs him to come home. He needs it the same way he needs air in his lungs.

He doesn’t know how much time passes but after what _feels_ like decades, he finally hears the front door crack open behind where he sits on the edge of the couch. He bolts to his feet, a bundle of nervous energy, but he needs to take a second to breathe when he gets so dizzy the whole room spins around for a few moments. When he can focus again, his eyes zero in on Ian’s face. He wants to run to him and hold him, but he's not exactly sure Ian wants him to right now. Mickey still feels like a piece of shit and he thinks maybe in this instance he should give his husband the chance to speak first. He owes him that much.

Ian's standing in the entrance to the living room, eyes downcast. After an excruciatingly long amount of time, he lifts his head to look at Mickey’s face, revealing bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Mickey suddenly wishes he could kick himself in the nuts for doing that to him. His heart hurts in his chest and he doesn’t know how much more of this he can handle. Then, Ian speaks. “I’m really sorry about tonight, Mick.”

Mickey wasn’t expecting the first words out of Ian’s mouth to be an apology. He gives in to his instincts and scrambles to stand in front of him, reaching a hand around his neck, carding his fingers through Ian’s hair gently. “Hey, no, it’s okay. I'm the one who's sorry, about what I said. Me and my big fucking mouth…” He tries to flash Ian a small smile, but Ian still looks so sad and it's tearing him down inside.

“It’s not like you weren’t telling the truth,” he says, voice low and broken. He shifts around like he's trying to slowly escape from Mickey’s grip around his neck, attempting to make himself smaller under his husband’s gaze.

Mickey’s not letting him go anywhere though and instead redoubles his efforts to comfort his husband. “I was talking out of my ass,” he says firmly. “I don’t blame you for the shit you did back then. I’m not gonna pretend it didn’t hurt at the time, or that it doesn’t still fucking hurt when I think about it, but I was a jackass tonight insinuating you'd do something like that now. I _know_ you wouldn’t.” Mickey’s holding Ian’s head with both hands now, tilting it up and trying to get Ian to look him in the eyes. When he succeeds, he hopes his husband can see in his eyes how sincere he is, how much he means what he’s saying.

Mickey strokes Ian’s cheekbones with his thumbs, tender and reassuring. The eye contact is intense, but Mickey is definitely not going to look away. Ian’s the only one who can make him feel so raw, so open, and even though it can get kind of scary sometimes, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ian keeps gazing at him for a long time, new tears forming in his eyes, until after a while he nods slightly and seems to be convinced by Mickey’s words. “I was such a fucking idiot, though. I shouldn’t have let that guy be all over me like that. ‘m sorry.” He looks pleadingly into Mickey’s eyes, unaware that his husband has long since forgiven him.

“Oh, I'm not arguing that, you _were_ being a fucking idiot,” Mickey says with a teasing smirk on his lips. They share a light laugh, and both take the opportunity to sigh in relief, almost simultaneously. Mickey smiles softly, then returns serious after a moment. “But I shouldn’t've snapped at you like that. We should really get better at communicating and all that shit, man.”

“Ya think?” Ian’s chuckling genuinely now, and Mickey’s relief is palpable. He smiles a toothy grin, happiness radiating off of him. He goes in for a soft kiss, slotting his lips with Ian’s for a few seconds. He then exhales a shaky breath and pulls away slightly, letting their foreheads rest together while he’s still stroking Ian’s face tenderly. Ian has his hands on Mickey’s waist, drawing little circles over the fabric of his shirt with his thumbs. Lovingly reassuring him that they’re alright now, they’re here and they’re together and they’re _okay_.

After a few minutes spent like that, Mickey’s taking Ian’s hand and pulling his husband towards the couch. “Now come on, night’s not over yet. Let’s watch some fucking TV and cuddle up under a blanket or something. I know you love that shit,” he tells Ian, well aware that they both know he _also_ really loves that shit.

Ian’s smile is beaming as he plops down, wraps his arms around Mickey and pulls him against his own chest. Neither of them had planned to spend their night like this, but despite all the heartbreak and the emotional turmoil earlier in the evening, they're pretty fucking content at the moment. They still have a lot of shit to figure out, but it’s okay, because they’re not going anywhere. They’re exactly where they’re supposed to be. Nowhere else in the world they'd rather be.

Because this is what marriage is. Thick and thin, good times and bad.

Till death do them part.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know your thoughts! Feedback is always welcome :)
> 
> my [tumblr](https://sickness-health-all-that-shit.tumblr.com/)


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